


Maybe we're just sleepwalking

by scribensdracones



Category: Noblesse (Manhwa)
Genre: F/M, Forbidden Love, M/M, Old Friends, Redemption, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, hints of Frankenrai
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-05-05 12:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14618189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribensdracones/pseuds/scribensdracones
Summary: Roctis Kravei often thought of himself as a dying tree, stuck in winter of life. When he crosses paths with Edian Drosia's turbulent niece, an accidental test subject of his daughter, everything is shattered. Light seeps through the cracks of his bitter soul. Torn between his daughter (and everything he did for her) and the siren call of new beginings, of salvation and redemption... he once more faces choices he never wanted to make.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is something that has been on my mind for a while and I am a bit awkward about posting this but??? This is one of those where I really would appreciate any kind of feedback/response, though of course, no pressure here! I just hope y'all enjoy what I am fabricating here :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a fic I am super insecure about but anyway.  
> Edit: I merged chapters 1 and 2.

**Frankenstein I**

 „Master. Your tea.“ Frankenstein was as soft-spoken as always. The master has been thoughtful, maybe even _worried_. Too much happened at once. The sudden appearance of his old friend, the lord of werewolves, had thrown him off so much that the traitor clan leader had escaped with his fiendish daughter. At that time, they had not managed to chase them.  
Did Master intend to finish what he started? Would he find whatever dark little hole they were hiding in and put an end to it? A part of him felt that this is what needed to be done – before Roctis and Ignes Kravei could do even more harm than they already did. On the other hand... Master had lost so much energy, so much of his lifeforce, it should not be wasted on vermin like them.

Raizel's gaze was distant. What was on his mind? Even after so much time, Frankenstein sometimes had trouble telling for sure – though he could feel that he was deeply unsettled by something, he could not pinpoint it to one particular cause. Maybe Master could not either. After everything that happened.

„Do you want me to find them?“, Frankenstein offered all of a sudden. That bitch and her treacherous father had no chance against him. For master, he would extinguish their flames forever if it meant he would find any peace of mind in their deaths.

„No.“  
One simple answer that told him everything. Though evil, malicious, ignorant tongues would claim otherwise, his master found no joy in killing. Violence and death brought him no satisfaction, bloody vengeance gave him no peace. He had seen it in his eyes when he forced Zarga Siriana and Urokai Agvain into eternal sleep.

A mistake, though he would not say so. Anyone they let get away now would come back later to cause more trouble. Still, he would follow Raizel's wishes in best hopes. I trust you.

„I will make you ramen.“  
Gently, Raizel raised his hand, one simple gesture that held only one command. Wait.  
„I want you to stay here. Just here.“ 

* * *

**Roctis I**

The halls were empty apart from two men who walked side by side, both dressed in white and gold. One of them was tall, towering over the other man. Nobles. These halls were not as large and imposing as the previous building he had occupied, an entire island for himself, his daughter and the few research assistants she had. Now, the place was both smaller and busier. A change he did not welcome in any way.  
„I am glad to see that you are settling in well, 4th Elder.“  
„Thank you for your concern, administrator.“  
„The past few months have been _turbulent_. More than half the union has been wiped out,“ the shorter man continued, unfazed by the quiet demeanor of the elder next to him. Half a tragedy – the entire island has been destroyed, though the 4 th Elder and his briliant daughter had managed to escape. The 9th Elder, a capable scientist, was an inevitable casualty. The Noblesse... back... Everyone could tell that this meant no good. „... especially many of your peers.“  
Roctis glanced at the man walking next to him. Though he had other things on his mind now, he knew that he could not let his guards down just yet. The Union and his position in it was more uncertain and unstable than ever before.  
Before he became the head of the Union's finance department, he had been a no one. What was to a brother-in-law of a weak clan leader? Edian held little respect and renown among the nobles, her kin even less. Roctis was not even sure whether this was not the longest conversation he ever held with this man. However... though he knew that Jochanan Drosia was not to be trusted... he knew that through the finances of the Union, he must have an insight that might come in handy.  
„You do not say this to express your condolences, do you?“  
„No. You are running out of allies, Roctis Kravei. Three humans. Two werewolves. One noble. These are the remaining elders in the Union...“  
„I know what you mean to ask me, Jochanan Drosia, And in return?“  
„Knowledge is power. Something most of the elders fail to grasp. It happens to be something I have in abundance.“  
„... I see. I will consider our conversation the next time matters of hierarchy will be discussed.“

Though Roctis did not like this man, he knew that he spoke the truth: he was running out of allies.

* * *

* * *

**Janna I**

„And this is why we must stop the oppression of women by the patriarchy. It's deeply rooted into our culture, into our language! Liz? Hey, Liz, are you still listening to me?“  
A party like any other, about twenty college students discussing climate change, politics, feminism and other important issues – one second, the noble woman sat on a couch that smelled like it had seen its fair share of spilled beer in the past, the next, she found herself in the void. Something called out to her, here, in this void. Faced with glowing silhouettes of people, shades of the proud clan leaders they once were, she could see one single face she was familiar with. A deep sadness in crimson eyes. A sadness that she had not seen in a long time, a sadness she had not even really _noticed_ before.  
„Auntie? I mean... Clan leader Edian? Is that you?“ She looked so similar to the woman she knew and yet, at the same time, so strange, so foreign. Distorted by this place between light and shadows.  
With a good, natural measure of disbelief, she took a step backwards. None of this was natural – no part of the human world, but the world of nobles. The world of spirits and ghosts, of souls. „Janna Lucretia Drosia, closest of my blood.“ More than a dozen voices spoke to her at once, casting her soul into a deep discomfort she could not describe. The shade that resembled her aunt so much extended her hand towards her, a glowing rapier manifested itself.„Though my body fails me, my soul will live on within the clan weapon.“  
Janna's hand trembled as she reached out for the weapon – and before her fingers touched the glowing blade, she pulled away, shaking her head forcefully. The vision ended abruptly. Her glass of beer had dropped from her hand, the contents spilled on the floor, the glass rolling away and under a nearby couch.

„Liz? Liz? Are you okay?“  
„I am not Liz,“ she mumbled. Was this an illusion? Was this a twisted daydream? No. Deep down inside, she could _feel_ it – and it frightened her. Absent-mindedly, the pureblooded noble rose from the beer-stained couch. „I must go.“  
More than a dozen eyes rested on her as she left the apartment. She must find her father. Could Edian be dead? What in this world could... and would... kill a clan leader? Lukedonia? She could not imagine them hunting down traitors. More importantly, she could not quite grasp the consequences of this. If her aunt really was dead... if this was the calling of the soul weapon.... Had she just refused it? Had she rejected it? Had she imagined it, maybe? Despite the infinitesimal likelihood of it, she refused to discard the possibility that this strange vision might mean nothing after all.   
Hopefully Jochanan Drosia would have answers for her.

* * *

**Ignes I**

Her new room felt empty and naked without a countless numbers of doodles, drawings and notes taped to the walls. Loveless, plain white walls that made her feel as though she was drowning in white noise. However, no matter how much time Ignes spent in front of her sketchblock, her mind was as blank as the page before her. It always came down to blood and tears, to the awful fear that seized her even now. What would keep him from tracking them down? What would keep him from coming for them again? Would they be able to overwhelm him, together?  
Too many thoughts rushed through her mind. No formula, no idea, no image in her mind. Nothing she could pin against that wall that needed a hundred of pictures to stop looking so infuriatingly empty. In her old room, her walls have been covered in sketches of different people, sketches of plants and objects, notes about experiments she still wanted to do. No space has gone unused. Father always called her room an unholy mess, but showed no intent of doing anything about it.

They'd almost died that day. She has been too weak, did not even get to fight. Her world had gone darkness and blood within seconds. A disgrace. A weak disgrace. Next time, she would need to be stronger. She must be prepared.

The next time the Noblesse dared coming for them, he would face both father and daughter and find himself put to eternal sleep. She would not let him take her father from her.

She must become even stronger than she was.

* * *

**Jochanan I**

The death of Edian Drosia was, above all other things, a problem. She left the world with a difficult question: who would lead the remaining people of the clan? Jochanan had received the news of her death through his network of informers. This was no good... Immediately, he'd started rummaging through the tree of the clan, though he did not need to venture far. If the Soul Weapon chose the nearest blood relative... then it must have gone to his daughter. That, too, was a problem.

He sat in front of the large desk in the union's office in Dubai. They had moved into the new building only recently. Gently, the noble drummed his fingertips against the dark wood of his desk. In half an hour, several members of his clan would come to him, looking for answers. Did Edian really die? Who would lead them, now? Even before her death he had been the one they turned to, disappointed by an absent-minded clan leader who always seemed preoccupied with something else. Wasn't he predestined for this position? For centuries he had spied and lied, schemed and conspired. Neither the union nor anyone else acknowledged him the way he deserved. He would make them, then.

Briefly, his gaze turned to the old photograph (a copy, the original was stored away safely). He with two younger nobles – a blonde young woman and a blonde boy, hardly more than a teenager. Among the first photographs taken, an invention his daughter had showed them with greatest excitement. His daughter. That girl could not even lead her own life, let alone an entire clan. Of course, that was not the main issue – she would not be the first incompetent woman to be in charge of Clan Drosia. However, there was a fundamental difference between her and Edian: Edian always has been predictable and reasonable. Edian could be influenced.  
To place his daughter in a position of power... behold, the clan leader who will bring power into the weakened union, a puppet that followed his plans and carried out his orders... Maybe even help him out. Never underestimate how dangerous a charming woman can be. Alas... he has not been blessed with an obedient daughter. All the possibilities in front of him vanished into thin air.

When the three men and two women who would speak for the clan stepped before him, he finally had an answer.

“The rumors are true, my friends. Tell our people that our beloved leader, Edian Drosia, has entered eternal sleep. We will mourn for her and remember her fondly,” he started and finally got up from his chair. His moment had come, no one would step between him and his hour in the sun.  
“The soul weapon has chosen me as its rightful wielder and the rightful successor of Edian Drosia. Tell our people that I will, as I always have, lead them with their best interest on my mind and in my heart.”

* * *

**Roctis II**

“Ignes.” Gently, he rapped his knuckled against the door to her room. Most of the time, she did not tolerate having anyone in there. Now, however, he received a hum as invitation. Roctis had not found her in the laboratory, so he reckoned she must be in her room instead. A few doodles and sketches and notes have been stuck to the wall by her bed where she sat cross-legged. Softly, Roctis closed the door and made his way to her bed. Ignes shifted aside so he could sit next to her comfortably. Slowly, she let her head drop against his shoulder.

“I was so scared I might lose you,” she mumbled softly, breaking the silence after a while. Roctis merely placed an arm around her and let silence settle back in. Rarely did they ever have such moments of pure, genuine gentleness. Ignes remembered days when she would just sit in his lap and watch him do whatever he was doing, later moving on to sitting next to him, instead, pencils and parchment scattered all over the table.  
“There is something important I need to talk to you about.” He shifted so he could look at her and, gently, cupped her face with his hands. This sweet face, he would always see the little girl she used to be, once upon another time. However, those days were over. Ignes was no little girl anymore and this world was not one where they could walk with ease, knowing nothing could ever harm them.   "Anyone who isn't us... is an enemy. Remember that. Trust no one.”  
  


* * *

**Raizel I**

To be loved was not always a great bliss. No, often it was a burden, instead. Her dying breath... His dying breath... He'd heard too many dying breaths of too many people he had cherished. In his own, quiet, silent way, Rai had loved all of them. He'd loved Edian, loyal and quiet, loved Urokai's fire, loved Roctis' big heart, Zarga's cool mind, Lagus' sharp intellect. In a way, he'd loved each of them, unable to show, unable to make them see. Sometimes he wondered whether his current friends thought the same of him, now. Did they feel abandoned? Did they doubt he cherished them? Sometimes even Frankenstein made him wonder. Was he giving enough?

Raizel did not move when he felt a hand touching his shoulder lightly, fingertips coming to rest on the fabric of his jacket.

“I am sorry,” Frankenstein said softly and it was all he needed to hear. After a moment of hesitation, he reached out, placing his own fingers over Frankenstein's before the human could pull away. For a few minutes, they did not move at all.

When Frankenstein turned around and left to make him tea, Raizel felt less forlorn.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to all those who reacted to this work, I am so overly happy and... I think I want to continue this because this is dear to me! This time it's a slightly longer chapter because otherwise, at my usual pace, Janna and Roctis would not even meet by chapter 10. This might be a bit TOO slow burn haha. Also, as promised, some Frankenrai to sweeten it all ;)

**Janna II**

To set foot on Lukedonia after so much time felt more than just strange. What devil had ridden her to come back here? Janna always liked to think that she had a good intuition, reliable enough to trust fleeting feelings. Now, accompanied by two soldiers of the central knight, she was not so sure about that anymore. Why had she not stuck with her original plan? Once, all of this was familiar, though now, the looming castle of the Lord felt ominous, threatening. No one could promise that the Lord was still the young noble she knew and cherished. No one could promise that she would not be found guilty by association. Janna was not too naive to suspect that she would not be met well here.

The seam of her plain black dress trailed over the marble floor as she approached the throne of the Lord, past the currently present clan leaders. She recognized Gejutel and Claudia, perceiving them from the corners of her eyes. The others were only vaguely familiar, children she used to know. Now they were adults, clan leaders. Silently, she curtsied before the Lord, head lowered, remaining in this position until spoken to. For a few moments, the silence was almost unbearable.  
“Janna Lucretia Drosia. I see you decided to return, now of all times. Speak.”  
“Lord. The Leader of the Clan, Edia Drosia, entered eternal sleep.” She dared glance up, trying to discern what Raskreia might be thinking. Did their former friendship mean anything? Was there still enough left to win her goodwill? Janna felt uncomfortable, exposed to the glare of the Lord and the gaze of the other clan leaders in her back. “The soul weapon moved on to me. This is the reason I came here.”  
“And you say you ignore the circumstances of your former leader's demise?”, the Lord finally inquired. Was she mistaken... or did Raskreia have to consider what to ask next? The question felt too carefully worded.  
“I haven't spoken to Edian in the past ten years, Lord,” she replied after a few moments. What was the actual background? _You know what happened, don't you?_ She was tempted, but refrained from asking anyway. One should not question a Lord, especially not in front of other clan leaders. From the moment she had set foot here... There was a _tension_ in the air. The central knights were on edge and if she was not mistaken, they had passed the site of battles on their way to the castle. Just what had happened here?

Even though the silence did not last longer than a single minute, it still felt like an unbearable eternity of anxious wait. Eventually, the Lord raised her voice again, having come to a verdict.  
“By virtue of the friendship we once held, I shall believe you in this regard, for now. We will continue this conversation in private.”  
Janna breathed a soft sigh of relief and rose from her reverence, straightening out the black velvet. Briefly, she glanced to the other clan leaders. Why... just what was going on here? This was exceptionally somber and bleak even for noble standards.

The two women sat down in one of the many parlors of the castle and for a while, Janna merely listened to the summary of the recent events. The Noblesse's return. The Union attacks. The traitor invasion... However, nothing touched her quite as her aunt's fate. They never have been close. A shadow had lingered over Edian's soul and no one noticed. Yet again she had failed to see the sorrow of someone who was supposed to be close to her. Could she have been saved? Could anyone have helped Edian? Maybe if they had paid more attention to her... maybe if they had _cared_ more about her... But they didn't. She didn't. Father didn't. Back then, even mother didn't. Not even about her own sister. And so they have left Edian to her fate. To lament it... wouldn't that make her an awful hypocrite?

“I am sorry for your loss, Janna,” Raskreia finally said, breaking the silence that had followed the accounts of the past months. “You are her closest living relative. That's why the soul weapon moved on to you. It is yours by right.”  
“I don't think I am fit to be a clan leader,” she confessed. “All these years, our people turned to my father anyway.”  
Carefully, she glanced at the Lord, trying to discern her reaction.  
“We all grow into our roles and duties. I have no doubts you will, too, in time... Until then, I allow you to stay here. Welcome home.”

For the first time since their reunion, Raskreia smiled and Janna returned it with a quiet, heartfelt relief.  
“I … apologize for leaving. I know I should have been a better friend to you... So.. thank you. I know I am bad at this, but... I am grateful you still let me return.”  
Raskreia's smile dropped, replaced by an expression that bordered on quiet disappointment. A deep loneliness she could not quite describe.  
“I am the Lord and you are one of the clan leaders, whether you are ready to accept it or not. But don't think that all these years you were gone mean nothing.”

Ouch. Surely, Raskreia had put her right back into place. Janna nodded softly. Right. You couldn't just leave for five hundred years and expect that your friends did not mind. “Thank you.”

* * *

**Roctis III**

_Strange_. Of course, he'd expressed his condolences, polite as always, but something about this struck him as _off_ , though Roctis could not place a finger on it. Jochanan Drosia was a pureblooded member of the clan, after all, and the reports did say that Edian Drosia, along with Lagus Tradio and Gradeus, fell that day. No, why was he questioning it in the first place? These news should delight him, even. That encounter with the Noblesse... had Ignes not released the werewolf Lord, he would have died there. Anything that drew more life force from Raizel was supposed to be good news for him. Still, he was not entirely dead inside yet. These people have been his friends once. One by one, Raizel had put them into eternal sleep. Zarga, his brother-in-law who often felt like a real brother. Urokai, fierly Urokai, too young for his responsibility, full of fire. He still sometimes felt mildly disgusted with himself for what they made him do. Edian, poor Edian, who loved Raizel as purely as one could ever love. Gradeus and Lagus, though he wasn't as close with them as with the others, they had still grown on him. No surprise, given how much time they had spent together.

One by one, he had taken them from him. He would not let him get this close to Ignes again.

* * *

**Frankenstein II**

“Frankenstein.” Raizel's voice was soft as always and at once, his entire focus wandered to his master. He never spoke without purpose. All the papers before him could wait. They could never matter as much as whatever Rai meant to say now.  
“Yes, Master?”  
“Do you think we could have saved them?” A simple question, one that confused him at first. _Them_...? Did he mean... the traitors? Frankenstein swallowed, well aware of how much his master must hurt. They died by his hands, in the end, those who were his friends once. Even though he hadn't liked any of them in particular, he knew that their deaths did not leave Raizel indifferent. Long before he had found him, they were his sole company.  
“No,” he replied without much thought once he was relatively certain that he understood the question. “Their made their choices and paid the price.”  
He could not bring himself to feel much pity for them.  
Raizel slowly turned his head back to the window, looking forlorn. Frankenstein hated to see him like this, preferred the quiet contentment he showed when surrounded by his friends.  
“Frankenstein... know I will always cherish you.”

* * *

**Janna III**

  Over the course of the following weeks, their relationship had calmed down. Maybe it would not be the same, but still, it seemed as though in a way, Raskreia was glad that she returned. It was all so strange, to see her like that... So somber, so serious. Every inch of her was beyond just regal. Such a burden she must carry... she, and the other clan leaders, all too young for the duties forced upon their shoulders by a generation that thought they were doing the right thing. Janna still felt bitter over it (that conversation would always stay in her memories, back then, on the balcony of the castle ~~. _I am sorry Lord. I failed to be a good friend to your daughter. I am sorry._~~ ) To disappoint people seemed to become a particular talent of hers, at this point. 

  Now, she felt almost guilty for leaving Lukedonia again after such a short time. However... there were still her people, the clan who could return to their homeland. With her sacrifice Edian had cleared their name of everything. Should she not let them know? Should she not tell them that they had a new leader?  
Slowly, she entered the modern glass building in Dubai. The latest base for the Union's administration, if she was not mistaken. Up on the highest floor, her father held both his office and his living quarters. She swallowed when her mind wandered to someone who would have loved to live in a penthouse high above such a vivid city. There were too many people in this world she owed an apology.

“Janna. I actually hoped you would drop by.”  
She turned around to glance at her father. Not a very tall man, dark hair, a dapper pointed beard, a simple black suit. If it weren't for his eyes, she would not have suspected him to be a noble. Some were more skilled at blending in than others.  
“Father. Aunt Edian died.”  
“Yes. I know. You have the soul weapon now, don't you?”  
“Yes.” Huh, he did not hesitate. Straight to the point.  
“My dear child...” He reached out for her hands, patted them gently with his thumbs. “... we both know that you are not made to be a clan leader. All this... responsibility... being tied down with duty... That doesn't suit you, does it?”

With a frown, she pulled away her hands. “I was in Lukedonia. We can go back. Father. You don't need the union anymore! Our people can go home.”  
His soft, fatherly smile froze into an impassive expression she could not read entirely. It felt too cold, and filled her with unease.  
“I am not going to leave the union. I will become an Elder. At last. It's about time, don't you think? After all these years. All these years, I was the one to take care of the clan, too. Don't be unreasonable, Janna. Let me set you free from this burden.”  
“No.” Why? Why did she care? It was not a responsibility she wanted or an honor she felt worthy of. Yet something... something in his eyes, something in his tone, made her feel afraid. For the first time in her life, she felt afraid of her own father.  
“No,” he repeated slowly. “And why not? You are just like your mother. Do you think she would have wanted you to be forced to be the leader? Renounce the soul weapon to me. I will lead our people.”  
“No. I won't. It chose me. The Lord accepted me.”  
“The Lord! The Lord! The time of the nobles is over, you should know it better than any of these pathetic rats holing up in Lukedonia! It's either sink or swim. I didn't take you for the type to choose sinking. What for?”  
“Because... because...” She swallowed hard. It was a feeling she could not name, yet one that filled her with nauseating fear anyway. “You don't sound like yourself at all!”  
“Neither do you!” He was interrupted by the sound of a call – gritting his teeth, he turned to glance at the screen gleaming green. Her opportunity. While her father was distracted, Janna slipped out, escaping outside to the top of the building. From there, over the rooftops, away. Anywhere but here. What happened to him?! What kind of dark madness drove him to speak to her like that?! Could he really have been corrupted by the same hunger and lust for power humans were seized with?

Somewhere by the western coast of Africa, she finally stoppped, steps slowing. She should be near Dakar now, if she was not mistaken. Surely, she could stay here for the day, rest after the senseless flight across the continent.

Unfortunately, the universe was not done with her for the day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for everyone who reads and, more importantly, who chose to comment! Every single one, no matter how small, means a lot to me x3

**Janna IV**

She never really fit in. Still, it wasn't as though she had no one to socialize with, when staying in Lukedonia. Usually, it was the four of them. Raskreia, Claudia, Ignes and herself. Claudia and Raskreia, she had seen recently. Ignes, however... Ah, she had changed less than her other two friends, at least when it came to appearances.  
“Oh wow, Ignes? Is that you? I didn't see you in ages!” Janna smiled widely, genuinely relieved to see a familiar face (no. Wait. Ignes was with the union now. This was her conflict too, wasn't it?) Still – Ignes hardly returned her smile, though her surprise was still fairly obvious.  
“So you are still around. My, fetching as always, Janna.” Ignes approached her in a slow saunter. “What are you doing here?”  
“Me? Oh. Nothing in particular.” Keep it light and casual. From what she heard... Ignes changed a lot in the past centuries. Not for the better. “What about you?”  
“Me? Nothing in particular,” Ignes repeated and grinned, releasing a sound that reminded her of a giggle stuck in her throat, not enough to be a snort. “Actually... Something in particular. Test subjects. It seems I am always running short on them.”  
“Ah, that's really -”  
“Quit that small talk, I am not interested in that.” Ignes eye's narrowed and, though Janna knew that this was the wrong thing to do, she took a step back. Never let someone intimidate you. (Never let them see they succeeded) .

“Come on... I want to see whether you got better since our last time.”  
“I don't want to fight you, Ignes.” Janna raised her hands gently, a well-meant attempt at appeasement.  
“Too bad. Because I do.”

She was no match for her – while Ignes had spent all these centuries working on herself, becoming a powerful fighter, Janna had done little but dance and read poetry. What good is peaceful resistance if you were up against someone who thirsted for blood?!  
“Ignes! Stop! I have nothing to do with all of this!” She narrowly dodged the attack, hardly in a position to even worry about the surrounding buildings and civilians – there was only one way out: get away from here. Immediately. This was no fight she could win, no matter what. And what about the soul weapon? The soul weapon she rejected? An idle, useless thought that popped up in a dark corner of her mind as she spun around to dodge Ignes' fist. As if that would save her now.

Unfortunately, she could not outrun Ignes, exhausted from the wounds Ignes had inflicted on her as well as the long run all across the continent. The next assault hit her right in the back with a force that sent her stumbling forwards. Gracelessly, she landed in the dirt. Before she had time to orient herself and get back on her feet, everything went dark.

* * *

**Roctis IV**

Emptiness gnawed at the edges of his soul, something that sat deeper than the overwhelming boredom he felt now. Ignes went on as always, as though none of the current events really mattered. Maybe she was right. What was regret good for? Now, it was too late anyway. He'd made his bed and would have to lie in it now. Roctis' thoughts were interrupted by the door being opened. Ah, Ignes. He should pay more attention to his surroundings, normally he'd hear her coming by the sound of her steps.  
“Father!” She beamed at him with a smile that usually meant one thing. There was only one thing that filled her with enough glee to smile like that these days and a certain dread crept up inside of him, twisting his guts. He should not let her see that the possibilities distressed him.  
“You know, when I said I was going to make us stronger... so we will be safe.. I found the most _**perfect**_ test subject anyone could ever ask for! Come, come!” She approached with wide strides and reached for his sleeve, tugging him along.

  The laboratory was almost fully furnished by now. Pressing a couple of buttons, Ignes opened the high security door behind which she inteded to keep her most valuable test subjects. “Isn't she perfect?”, she crowed, hands clasped in front of her chest. At first, Roctis could not even quite idenity the blonde woman shackled up the way Ignes usually kept her subjects.   
“A pure-blooded noble! And not a child, like those last time! And not affiliated with anyone. Open game. This is it, father! The data I will obtain from her! The more similarities – father?”  
He hardly heard what she was saying. All at once, he realized what had struck him odd about the announcement that Jochanan Drosia was the next leader of the clan after Edian. There was someone who shared more blood with the deceased clan leader than he did, someone who stood before him in the line of succession. 

 

 

>  “ _Miss Janna. Your father is not here, is he?” Zarga and Urokai had left this unpleasant visit to him. Unlike him, they weren't fathers, after all. Not that Roctis really could imagine what it must be like. Not that he would want to try. However, in the lavishly furnished manor in Spain, near Valencia, he did not find the Union's administrator, but his daughter. Gently, the woman shook her head, golden curls slightly bouncing with the soft movement. “He should be back soon, however,” she continued and gestured towards the open balcony door before passing him – Roctis caught the distinct scent of jasmine perfume trailing behind her.  
>  __Slowly, he followed her, stepping out into the bright sunlight. Roses bloomed, creeping up the walls and writhing around the marble stone of the balustrade that now stood between her and the cliff overseeing the Mediterranean sea. Two seagulls crossed the cloudless sky before them. Here, the scent of jasmine was almost drowned out by the sweet, heavy fragrance of roses and the salty seabreeze. Crowned by a halo of golden sunlight, he briefly wondered whether this world had seen such an exquisite beauty before, accentuated by the veil of mournful grief hanging over her delicate features. The black of her dress invaded the brightness of this place, an inevitable truth in this picturesque, serene scene. Grief befell anyone, anywhere._
> 
> “ _I am here to express my deepest and most sincere condolences, on behalf of the 6 th and 7th Elders as well, both to your father.. and you.” He placed a hand over his chest as though it would give his hollow words even a trace of authenticity.  
>  “Thank you. I appreciate you thought of us... You are welcome to stay here, Roctis Kravei, if you would like to express your condolences to father in person.” She hardly smiled at all, and though the corners of her rose-red lips rose into the hint of a smile, it did not reach her eyes. She, too, spoke in hollow words. A single glance was enough to tell Roctis all he needed to know: some things were best not to be talked about. _

He hadn't seen her since then, and soon enough, he'd even forgot the encounter altogether.  Only now, more than two hundred years later, did memory flood him. Bright sunshine and jasmine beguiling his weary senses. 

Ignes had no idea of what a precious piece of information she'd brought into their home. The moment he'd set eyes on her, the moment he reached out to feel her aura, he knew: Jochanan was a liar. Though Janna did not have the energy of a fully awakened clan leader, he still could feel its lingering traces. There were several possibilities. Ignes had mentioned the younger Kertia boy who wielded a seemingly incomplete soul weapon. Might Jochanan have done a similar thing? Split the weapon? It was an idea he sometimes toyed with too, confiding a part of himself to Ignes already. Whenever that thought occurred, he remembered she would not just use it for self defense. Anyway... Before Ignes got to start her experiments, he must receive answers from the girl. Question her and decide what to do next. Jochanan was in question for the seat of an Elder, after all, and thus, he only assaulted his own weakened position by trespassing against the Union. However, he did believe Ignes: a test subject of pure blood and similar age as herself would offer better results than the children. Decisions, decisions, one uglier and more unpleasant than the previous one. Why could nothing ever be easy?

And so he returned to the laboratory.

The noble was still half-passed out, wounds recovering well. They were alone in the laboratory, Ignes had gone upstairs to note down her ideas, excited as a little girl. However, he could not let her get in the way of making the right decision in this situation.  
“Are you awake?” He stopped before her, watched her stir slowly against the shackles that kept her wrists in place. “Do you hear me?” A slight nod. Her gaze, still hazy and disoriented, finally focused on him after scouring the room.  
“I will keep it short. Are you the Leader of Clan Drosia now?” This was all that really mattered. After a moment, the young woman gave the smallest of nods. So Jochanan was a liar, after all... Despite himself, Roctis found himself chuckling, it rang bitter and hollow in his ears. The data Ignes could obtain... or the gratitude of a liar in need... An additional elder... no, an additional _Clan Leader_... an additional piece on this board of accursed chess. Each fight weakened the Noblesse and his servant, wore down their enemies. His facial features softened into a false smile.   
"There... must have been a misunderstanding." He stepped closer to reach for the shackles - the younger noble stumbled forwards, though he caught her with one arm, keeping her from falling to the ground. "I apologize for Ignes' behaviour... She wasn't aware." Confusion was etched into Janna's features who seemed to be looking for the right words, though he was the one to resume speech first. "I will see to it that you return to your father safely. He must be worrying about you."  
Janna's eyes widened as though the mere idea filled her with dread. "Please, don't. I beseech you, let me go, but don't send me back to him!"  
Ah. She knew. Like the hare before the fox, she knew she was trapped.  

“I am afraid I cannot do that,” he replied dryly, smile dropping from his face, one hand kept her wrist in a tight grip. Not that she was in a state to put up much of a challenge. “I will have to return you to him, whether you comply or not.” It wasn't difficult to guess what would happen to her, then. One way or another, Jochanan would make sure his lies became truth before anyone else found out.  
“Please! Don't you have a heart ?! I have nothing to do with the Union, or any of this!” For a moment, something inside of him _stirred_. A part of him he considered to be dead already - the part that was still capable of feeling genuine sympathy for other people. Yet in this moment... His grip on her wrist loosened just slightly. Though her lower lip quivered, she did not break eye contact with him.

"Please. I need to return to Lukedonia. I won't tell anyone about this. I swear."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am truly honestly genuinely sorry I found no space for a frankenrai section, since this chapter already has a lot going on! I will try to whip up something longer for Franken and Rai in the next chapter, though!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, sorry for the long timeout, I was kind of overwhelmed with college etc. and sadly did not have time for writing - but here I am, back, because this leaves me no peace. Also, I swear this was meant to be slow burn but SOMEONE decided it gotta burn like a comet.

**Roctis V**

Madness, apparently, came in all shapes, sizes and forms. He'd always thought of himself as the sane one, the calm one, the rational one. A beacon of reason and stability in this cesspool of filth and madness. Or maybe his insanity came much subtler. It did not come with maniacal laughter and a malicious glint in the eye, did not announce itself in destruction and debris, did not parch his throat with thirst for blood and power. Up until now, Roctis Kravei considered himself to be the only sane man within the Union.

With a single, charming smile, he'd been proven wrong. Red eyes full of promises that would never be kept, a leash yanked from the collared end. What explanation would he prefer? Madness or softness? Two equally awful alternatives, it seemed. Still, like an old fool, he helped her. Miss Janna was merciful, did not question him – and maybe it was better that way. He surely would have changed his mind in the long, winding hallways of the base. Did some part of him hope he could still redeem himself? A single act of kindness after centuries of cold malice? That would not save him. Whatever he might gain from this – deep down inside, Ignes would have had better use for this woman. The joys of being only half a madman – you act foolishly and you know it.

 “Thank you.” Eventually, her voice broke through the uneasy silence that had settled between them (He would not have minded to give in to silence, preferred it to everything else). You're welcome, lingered on his tongue, though he could not quite bring himself to say it. It wasn't true. Even now, a part of him considered the possibility to get her back to the underground laboratory, it should not be that difficult. Still, what little decency he had left prevailed – he acknowledged her thanks with a slight nod of his head.

“So you know about your father?” This was not the kind of business he _usually_ pried into – maybe he should call it professional interest, rather than personal curiosity. Another liar among their ranks, claiming a power he did not posses (yet?) . If he could turn this knowledge into something useful, maybe then he might be able to forgive himself for letting her go, a liability out in the open.

“Yes. He wanted me to relinquish the soul weapon to him.”  
“I never took you for the type to care about leadership.”  
“You don't know me... but no. This is no responsibility I asked for. Still.. I know what the Union is like. I am not blind. I know how he would use that power.”  
“Hm. How noble of you.”

He earned a fierce scowl from her, but she knew better than to argue him.  
Moving swiftly, they covered a good deal of ground before she spoke up again, breaking the silence of the night once more. His steps slowed, from lightning-fast leaps to a slow, evenly paced stroll more fit for conversation. Some things were not lost on him, yet.  
  
“You know... I am most inclined to think you are not as bad as presumed.”  
“Worse than presumed,” he corrected. There weren't many atrocities he had not committed yet, and almost none he'd prevented others from committing. The blood his pawns and allies spilled had dripped down unto his own hands as well.   
“You did help me.”  
“That hardly makes me _good_.”  
“It hardly makes you _bad_.” 

* * *

**Raizel III**

The house was never entirely quiet, not even in the evenings. He could hear Karias doing the dishes, chatting with Tao about something called _Roommate._ Rael and Seira were the quietest in this house. Regis and M-21 seemed to be watching television in this moment, if he heard correctly. Takeo must be somewhere upstairs, though Raizel could not hear what he was doing at the moment. And Frankenstein... among a thousand people, he would still discern the pattern of his steps.

“Master. May I ask you a question?” Frankenstein's voice sounded soft. For once, it was no world-shattering, urgent matter they must take care of as soon as possible. Without turning to him, Rai gave him a small nod in response.  
“You enjoy going to school... yet why, _exactly_?”  
For a few moments, silence settled between them. Out of all the things he meant to say... How to put it into just a few words that would express it all? This was the true power of words, after all, to use them with thought and precision.   
“The children... we see eye to eye.”

To be the Noblesse was a lonely fate, more than anything: those who did not outright fear you... met you with reverence. You became an idea. Such as Erga Kenesis di Raskreia became the _idea_ of the Lord, he, Cadis Etrama di Raizel, became the _idea_ of the Noblesse. What did their names matter? What did anything matter, really? No one should be forced to carry this burden, and yet, anyone would still be met with the same blind reverence. Empty accolades for the Noblesse, not _him_. 

“Master... I...”  
“I do not criticize you.” Just as he respected those who chose to turn away from him, he must also respect those who chose to look up to him.

“To be the Noblesse... it's very lonely.”  
“It is.” Raizel nodded and, finally, turned around, tore his gaze away from the quiet of the garden behind the mansion. Frankenstein was painted silver by the pale moonlight.  
“You made it less lonely,” he added softly and earned a genuine, heartfelt smile from his old companion. These were the moments that truly mattered. These smiles that made his heart smile as well.

* * *

**Roctis VI**

How many centuries have passed since the last time he has been this close to Lukedonia? Roctis stopped first. A battle had taken place here – the energy still lingered in the air and almost made his guts twist. A noble had died here. Janna stopped next to him, thoughtful. This place was too serene for the ill energy that lingered here. The sea was calm, small waves lapped against the gravel-covered shore of the small island in the outskirts of Lukedonian territory. The rising sun painted it gold, chased away all light.

“I love dawn,” the noble next to him said softly, dreamy gaze fixated on the rising sun before them. “In this light, no darkness persist. Any shadow, no matter how dark, chased away by morning. Glorious, is it not? A new day breaks...”

The way here... Had made him thoughtful. Something inside of him felt broken, or maybe missing, or maybe some rotten, dead part was starting to _heal_. He did not know the difference. Slowly, he glanced at her, and once more, he wondered if he'd ever seen such a thing of beauty before. Not the lady in black, surrounded by her red roses in Valencia. In this glorious golden dawn, he saw life in her eyes, something that tasted like the word ' _hope_ ' on his tongue, bittersweet, ashen, something so close and so far away.

“You saved me,” she said, softly, and finally turned her head to look at him. “For that, I will be grateful to you forever, Roctis Kravei.” One slender hand rose and, most delicately, she placed her fingertips against his arm. “If there is ever something I can do to try to return this favor...”  
“Stay here, just for a little longer.” He spoke without thinking, seized by a wild, furious loneliness that felt too all-consuming. He did not want to be left alone with it, feared the silence that would replace her unbearably positive, optimistic chatter. Who did he call only _half_ a madman just a few hours before?

Surprise appeared on her face as well. Neither of them had expected such a request. A soft laugh rippled from her rosy lips, as though it was meant to mask all awkwardness. “Kings and beggers, poets and knights, philosophers and fools, have asked me to stay before...” Still, slowly, she brought up her hand. Did she fear him? What is it that made her fingers tremble until they, lightly, brushed against the skin of his cheek? Ah, he would melt into the touch if he could. When was the last time he had known tenderness? A gentle touch? Not from Ignes, who could never be more than a daughter, after all.

“I will smile,” she mumbled, eyes downcast. “... and it will etch itself into your inner eye... your memory...and Lord knows what it will become there.”

And indeed, like the rising sun, her smile chased away all shadows, so inevitable, blinding, spreading from the corners of her mouths into her crimson eyes. Lord knows what it will become, burnt into his memory like an open wound.

“You are truly the most terrifying man I've ever met,” she whispered, letting her hand drop back to her side, slowly. Still, she spoke, and her voice carried a softness that did not fit her words.  
“Am I?”  
“I think I might like you, if I stay.”

What a mad, mad world, full of mad people.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am sorry for this long break. I got a really rude comment that upset me so much I really did not want to continue for months but... I still ship this, I do want to continue this so.. here, a short chapter to get back into the swing.   
> I hope there are still some people around who might enjoy this at least a bit.

**Janna V**

He was infatuated with the idea of her. The most ordinary thing in the world, to be a thing. You're an idea, a picture painted in the colors of expectation. A canvas, a thing of clay to be shaped by a thousand hands and be seen by a million pairs of eyes. He was infatuated with the colors his mind must see dancing over her face and she was alright with it. He, too, was an idea. He was the black of his hair and the deep blue of his soul's home, the red of his eyes and the red of the blood dripping from his hands, the white of his skin and the white of his union's coat. Black, red and white, those were his colours and she wondered which colors he saw in her.

Here, on this Florida beach, he looked as wrong as he ever could. Even though he had assimilated himself with simple black clothing, he still looked terribly out of place. Like an average noble, she thought.  
“Don't stand here as though you've had a stare-down with Medusa. Come.” A winter morning, hardly anyone to be seen but a group of surfers down the beach. Good. It was quiet she sought. Slowly, Roctis started moving again, walking besides her, keeping a polite arm's distance. In a short, light blue summer dress, she would probably blend in with any group of young people.

“Don't you ever tire of them?”, he finally asked. Ah, finally! She almost had worried that he, in true noble fashion, might keep silence forever and force her to start talking first.  
“Huh? What do you mean?” Slowly, she tilted her head. Of course, it was not _difficult_ to guess what he might mean -  
“Humans. I know that you... spent much time around them. Don't you get tired?”  
“Hm. You know... some people say there is nothing new under the sun. Everything repeats itself... all stories have been told. All songs have been sung. An eternal ring, an endless dance.”  
“Eternal recurrence.”  
“Yes. Exactly!” Janna nodded eagerly before taking on a more playful tone, almost sultry. “And you? Have you lived before? Has there been a world in which we met already?”  
“I'd remember.” He did not smile – and yet, amusement gleamed in his eyes and it was enough to make her chuckle, pleased with his answer.  
“Still, I think I know you. Who knows... maybe once upon a dream. In the world before this one. Maybe we are the dust of two stars that crossed each other a billion years ago.”

With nimble fingers, she loved to play with fire. Maybe he could burn her, at last. A flame bright enough to leave her hands red and scarred, more than faint warmth in a winter's night. Any girl who claimed she did not dream of passion and romance must be a liar. And what's a mortal man? Not even a hundred years. Love or hate them, keep or leave, remember or forget. But oh, to love at all, was the most dreadful of it all. What was the risk of death as opposed to the risk of love? What could ever be more terrifying than a broken heart that would remember forever?

“You are every ounce as bad as they say, Janna.”  
“My. People say I am bad? Then you, Sir, can only be half as bad as they say.”

* * *

  **Roctis VII**

There was no winning with this girl, was there? Each attempt at meaningful conversation was brushed off – she did not want him to know her. She wanted him to _want_ her. Roctis knew people enough to tell that.  
The sun had risen to noon without them speaking another word – if she would not have conversation, he would not waste breath on the idle chatter she'd hoped to get from him. Beautiful she may be, but that would not make him jump through hoops. He wondered how long until she gave in and spoke up first.

“Lizzie! Oh my God, it's you!” A high-pitched female shriek tore the silence that surrounded them when Janna flinched quite vividly. A young human woman approached them, wide shine, short red hair. Janna did not evade the embrace of the human, accepted the hug by placing a hand on the woman's back delicately. “We were so worried about you! You just left like that and didn't take any of our calls or mails! What happened?!”  
She pulled away and glanced at Roctis instead and he could tell that she was trying to discern whether he was involved in her disappearance or not.  
“Liz! You can't just -”  
“Hush.” Gently, Janna placed a hand on the girl's cheek. Her voice was a velvety purr and Roctis took a step back. Red gleaming eyes – was she really using her powers on this girl, in public, without the order of the Lord?!  
“You met me once upon a dream,” the blonde noble whispered and placed a kiss on the redhead's cheek. “... Lizzie never existed... Live your life. And... break up with Kyle. He doesn't treat you right.”  
“... I never met you... and I will break up with Kyle...,” the human mumbled, transfixed by the red gaze of the noble.  
“Love yourself and live without regrets.” Janna smiled softly and brushed her thumb over the girl's cheek. “Thank you for the time we spent together. And now go.”  
With an empty stare, the human turned away to leave, moving in an awkwardly stiff fashion as though she was not controlling her body in full. For a couple of minutes, they did not move and watched the girl disappear in the crowd.

“Let's go down to the water.” Janna looked away quickly and Roctis felt a tension within her – as if she might run off any minute. Deftly, she slipped out of her shoes and walked off over the cool sand. For a few moments, he watched her shoes immaterialize and vanish the way she had made herself vanish from the life of that girl who must have considered her a friend.

After a few minutes, Roctis caught up with her by the water, reaching up to her ankles. He did not care about his shoes and the seam of his trousers getting wet.  
“Lizzie?”  
“I have and had many names.”  
She'd crossed her arms in front of her chest defensively and without the whole playful siren thing she seemed to try to put up as facade, she seemed even more beautiful. Seeing people in a vulnerable, emotional state was sacred. He watched a single tear running down her porcelain cheek and he had half a mind to wipe it away.  
“But this... this is what I get tired of,” she admitted softly. “It's often easier to never say goodbye... you leave and never turn around... I hate goodbyes.”  
“Why did you remove her memories?”  
“Because I did not want her to worry about someone who never existed. There never was a college student named Lizzie. Why make her remember and worry about a lie?”  
“Was she your friend?”  
“She was Lizzie's friend. And that's all there is to it.”


End file.
